Bañate
by Love In The Key of C
Summary: By the time Santana's fifteen year old son comes home from soccer practice, she's fed up with the smell of his disgusting gym bag in the laundry room. Between their anger and irrationality, hilarity ensues and somehow they both get drenched in water and a scolding from Mom. Fluff, humor, and future Brittana.


**A/N: This idea has been in my head for almost a month now. I had mentioned a little bit of my initial thoughts I had a few weeks ago, on my tumblr account. I figured it was finally time to put it into an actual story. There is quite a bit of Spanish in this story so I included the translations in a footnote at the bottom of the page. This was a lot of fun to write, and I laughed a couple of times imagining Santana bringing her distinct fiery personality to all aspects of her life. Feel free to review! Enjoy!**

She pulls her car into the driveway a little after 4:30, and sighs. An early day from the hospital is always a good one. After pulling the mail from the box and giving a friendly hello to the neighbors (as per Brittany's request), she shuts the front door behind her and plops the mail down on the hall table. She leaves her car keys on the hook hanging above it and drops her purse next the table.

"Baby, I'm home!" she calls out to Brittany as she shrugs out of her black blazer. She hears a murmuring sound from the basement, and knows that Britt must be down there cleaning the TV room. Mondays are the kitchen, Tuesdays are floors and surfaces, Wednesdays the basement, and Thursday is laundry day. After all these years Santana still doesn't know where Brittany gets the energy to come home, clean, and take care of the kids after she works all day at the dance studio. That's why Santana makes sure to help Brittany out with the house chores on Fridays and weekend mornings, those being her off hours. Well, that and she completely in love with Brittany.

Santana picks up a pair of navy converse that seem to have been haphazardly kicked under the hall table, no doubt an act of her son's constant movement and energy. She strolls into the laundry room to place her nude wedges and the pair of sneakers in the shoe basket, but the smell hits her before she's even kicked off her right shoe. She takes three steps back from the impact and eyes the culprit: a kelly green gym bag and a pair of cleats tossed in the middle of the laundry room. Dried dirt and sand are tracked through the room and a familiar green jersey hangs out of the washing machine, apparently in dirty enough shape to be not only thrown in the wash, but instead power washed and steam cleaned.

"TJ." she mutters angrily, tossing the converse in the shoe basket, and storming out of the room, both of her shoes still on her feet. She pounds up the stairs and throws his bedroom door open. The smell lingers there too, although seemingly "covered" by the mask of the ever toxic Axe cologne. She almost collapses on the floor from the smell. The boy jumps and settles, pulling his headphones off as he turns around in his chair to face his mother.

"Man, Mami, you almost gave me a heart atta-," he says around a chuckle.  
"Vamos a bañar te ahora!" she says loudly and marches across the room to grab him by the collar of his white polo. He stammers and stumbles, over both his words and his feet. "Te digo, todo los días, que hueles horrible después de ir a la práctica..." She's got him halfway down the hallway already before he even starts to talk.

"Mami, what the hell are you doing to me?" he shouts.

"Bañate!"

"Mami, I'll do it tonight! Despues!"

"Ahora!"

"Pero, Mami, you really think that normal 15 year olds shower as soon as they get home from soccer practice? You're lucky I even clean my own room!"

"No seas fresco conmigo!" she says and pulls him into the bathroom.

"I'm not!"

"Ahora! Shower now! Con agua y cloro!"

"This is absolutely insane. I'm not showering with you in here!"

"I do not have time for this!" Santana says and grabs him by the ear. She pulls him into the shower and turns on the water. They both stand there, entirely clothed, under the steady stream of water. She grabs the detachable shower head starts to spray him before he has enough time to register what's going on. She's got a bottle of soap in her hands and is about to start pouring it on his head when he swats it away. It banks off of the shower tiles and slides along the floor.

"TJ!"

"Mami! What the-"

"I told you to shower!"

"Madre de Di-"

"Terrence Jacob Lopez-Pierce, do not speak like that!"

"Ah si? Because, Gee, I wonder where I learned it, Mami." he says and grabs hold of the shower head, spraying her. She gasps and almost falls against the shower wall. She grabs him by the collar again and spins him, grabbing him around the waist. She takes the shower head back again and sprays him right in the face. They shout swears and hurl insults at each other in alternating languages. Santana has him in a headlock, the shower head held over them and drenching them completely, when a blonde hair of head peeks in through the door. She clears her throat and both bodies in the shower freeze.

"Mom, she's gone insane." TJ says sternly at the same time as Santana croons a cheery, "Hi baby."

Brittany nods and opens the door all the way. She walks over to the shower, both figures still frozen, and turns off the water. She slips the shower head out of Santana's hands, re-attaching it to the holder. She grabs 2 towels off of the rack next to the sink and takes Santana's hands, pulling her out of the shower.

"Hi, baby." Santana says again gently, hanging her head ashamedly and running her fingers over the soft skin of Brittany's knuckles.

"Hi, honey." Brittany replies. She places a hand under Santana's chin and lifts her face. She pecks her softly on the lips, a passing hello and just because kind of kiss that she loves. "How was your day?" she asks politely, handing Santana the two towels to dry her hair and her body with. Santana nods and accepts the fluffy towels. "Well that's good."

"How was your day?" Santana whispers.

"Just fine, thank you." Brittany says and she shuts the shower door again.

"Hey! What about me?" TJ whines from inside the shower.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Brittany says. She opens the shower door again and kisses him sloppily on the forehead before once again shutting the door.

"Not that! Mom!" he exclaims.

"Oh, well you see, as crazy as your Mama is," Brittany says, walking out of the room to grab fresh towels from the linen closet, setting them down on the counter, "she is absolutely correct. You really, really stink." He rolls his eyes and pulls off his sopping wet polo. He looks down and wipes at his khaki shorts, moving his feet around so that they make a squishy sound, socks soaked with shower water. "You can throw your clothes down the laundry chute for your wonderful Mami to wash for you." Santana groans from her spot on the toilet seat as she tries to pat herself dry. Brittany can only smirk. "And then she can make us all a lovely dinner, as per usual."

"Alright sure, but I am not washing that disgusting jersey. You can clean that for yourself, Teej." Santana says, using his old nickname. He groans louder than Santana had, something that Brittany swears is in the genes.

"Whatever, Mama, you're still insane." TJ says, shaking out his shaggy dark brown hair and flicking it to the side. Santana can remember how unbelievably happy he had been when he realized that he could still have side swept hair, even with his thick curls. He knew the girls would attack him if he could have hair like a member of that British pop band. Attack him they did. His first date had been a few weeks ago, with a sweet blonde girl named Jackie from the tennis team, and they'd gone out many times since then. She played the clarinet in the school concert band where TJ played the French horn. She was also in the choir and the high school musical and the drama, activities all left untouched by TJ, much to Brittany and Santana's dismay. They still remember their days of glee club and Cheerios, but they agree that TJ was destined to play instruments and read music rather than sing it, although he does have the signature Lopez-Pierce voice. Santana and Brittany approve wholeheartedly of his girlfriend. They're sweet. They meet after school for snacks at the coffee shop, see movies at the theater on Friday nights, play basketball in the driveway, go on runs around town together, and sing together in the yard. TJ plays on the guitar and she would sings sweetly, encouraging him to join in with the harmony that he knows so well.

"Hey, just because you put on all of that cologne doesn't mean that Jackie can't still avoid you because you smell like a wet dog." Santana says with a smirk. He throws his wet polo at her, and Brittany ducks as it lands just shy of Santana's foot.

"Enough!" Brittany shouts, "You take a shower. And you, stop egging him on." She points her fingers in appropriate directions, Santana and TJ passing joking smiles between them as Brittany fights to keep her stern expression in place. "It's like I have 3 children instead of 2!"

And right on cue, Stephanie bursts through the front door, her friend dropping her off at home after acapella group rehearsals, as usual.

"Mami! Mom! I'm home!" she shouted and they all heard the clunk of her dropping her backpack and textbooks in the laundry room. "Oh my god, what is that smell? It's like something died in here!"

Brittany and Santana bust out laughing, and TJ can only groan, turning on the shower.

*************************************************************

**A/N: **I wasn't lying when I said there was a lot of Spanish. A lot of it is choppy and random. Living in a house where Spanish and English are spoken, I know there are a lot of times where anger or excitement take over and everything becomes a big jumble of both languages. Spanglish, you could say. Also, "_con agua y cloro" is_ just a little saying that means to be very thorough with your washing. It's comparable to "_squeaky clean" in_ English.

**Translations:**

"You're going to shower right now!" she says loudly and marches across the room to grab him by the collar of his white polo. He stammers and stumbles, over both his words and his feet. "I tell you, every day, that you smell horrible after you come home from practice..."

...

"Mami, what the hell are you doing to me?" he shouts.

"Take a shower!"

"Mami, I'll do it tonight! Later!"

"Now!"

"But, Mami, you really think that normal 15 year olds shower as soon as they get home from soccer practice? You're lucky I even clean my own room!"

"Don't be fresh with me!" she says.

"I'm not!"

"Now! Shower now! With water and chlorine!"

"This is absolutely insane. I'm not showering with you in here!"

"I do not have time for this!" Santana says and grabs him by the ear.

...

"TJ!"

"Mami! What the-"

"I told you to shower!"

"Mother of Go-"

"Terrence Jacob Lopez-Pierce, do not speak like that!"

"Oh, really? Because, Gee, I wonder where I learned it, Mami."


End file.
